Your mailbox is full of condolence letters
for your sons
and unpaid bills…
You’re disappointed in me—
drooped mouth, mute eyes—
but you hide it well….
It’s getting a call at 2 AM that I remember.
A parking valet looking at my stick-shift like it’s
I’m trapped in a black tube, eyes darting left to right (at least what I think is left to right)
My eyes have betrayed me, my mind left to guide me out of the impenetrable darkness…
A party of seven gets
Seated at a table for eight….
Real women do it all
Homecoming queen, playin’ in the band
Raisin’ kids, raisin’ corn
Two steppin’ with her beau…
Late 18th century: from Italian amatore, from Latin amator ‘lover,’ from amare ‘to love”…
Paint me like a feminist
With unshaved legs
Who kisses other women who hate men…
What starts in chaos
Ends in chaos
That's what they all say
Like barbed wire teeth…
The daughter with the well-kept hair,
The daughter with the great sense of style,
The daughter with the acne free face…
That feeling in my stomach
That solid hollow feeling
I feel you in there, my deserted gift…
(I) Waxing Crescent
There was a woman unwell,
the housemaids would tell,
her toes and fingertips…
If Portland was my boyfriend
He would wake me up every morning with a cup of coffee
That I would love even if it was too strong…
the rose-and-lily scent of her garden eyes calls to me
like the sight of a freshly fading rainbow after a storm.
I ache for her soft-spoken hand in mine again…
The color of love is gray
not the silver-gray like the moon
or wispy gray clouds before a storm…
I let you go
as the shutter
clicked. Your breath…
In a darkened attic with silhouetted light
A puppet finds a lonely chest
In the chest, a silken dress…
Coat the walls with eggshell white
watch it drip onto the carpet.
Bees have no concept of June
during March’s final frosts.
Biting breezes, frozen mud
leech lifeblood from the moss…
see the words
on your phone
through stinging, blurry eyes…
She came from a dust-covered land.
Scarlet lips drip noxious elixirs into young ears.
Reviving oppressed areas of men’s brains…
you can feed your future without starving your past
you do not need to dig the roots up from the soil that you were once planted from
accept that the soil provided for you…